


The Christmas Box

by Alliswell



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Presents, F/M, OOC!Katniss, Pinay!Katniss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-18 23:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13110411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alliswell/pseuds/Alliswell
Summary: Peeta Mellark was a good little boy, generous, well behaved, sweet and honest. A caring soul. On the year his grandmother passed away, he sent a Christmas box far, far away... who knows who Jesus would bless with some Christmas cheer.





	The Christmas Box

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chele20035](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chele20035/gifts).



> Unbetead. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> This is a fan made story, burrowing the characters and names of The Hunger Games.
> 
> Merry Christmas to Chele! Earlier in the year, she posted this here article: https://rachfeed.com/pinay-girl-received-christmas-box-american-boy-kid-marries-14-years-later/. And asked it to be Everlarked. Of course, I obliged, and this my friend is my Christmas present to you! Heart you!!! Hope you like it.
> 
> Author’s note at the bottom.

**1993**

Peeta Mellark was a good little boy, generous, well behaved, sweet and honest. A caring soul.

He was raised in a religious environment, but religious isn’t synonym with christianity. While his mother went to church every time the doors were open, she wasn’t the most pious or kind person in private. She always looked down on others less fortunate than her, she was rather stingy and selfish, and talked ill about her peers behind their backs. Not a great role model to follow.

But Peeta’s little heart was his own, and he strived to be as Godlike as possible.

Unlike his mother, Peeta’s grandmother, was an excellent example of what a true Christian should be: kind, giving, selfless, trustworthy and loving. She taught her grandchildren through example, to be better people, helpful people and all around good human beings.

One December afternoon, after they hung up a garland on the banister of Granny’s living room, she presented him a cup of her special Christmas hot chocolate: mini marshmallows floated in the dark, rich beverage like like clouds melting and swirling into the drink, only to be topped off by a fluffy dollop of whipped cream, piled high so the drinker was left with cream whiskers, and to make it extra special, a sprinkle of crushed candy canes as adornment and little kick of peppermint to boot.

Nothing was better than that! An afternoon hanging twinkling lights, singing along old carols, while grandma baked her world famous gingerbread cookies, her boys would frost and eat in the warmth of her kitchen, it didn’t matter they’ve grown up in a bakery, they never got to eat the sweets unless they were stale, because it was their livelihood and ingredients were too precious to waste.

it was just the two of them that evening, and as she sat across from him at her breakfast nook, she asked. 

“Peeta, m’dear, have you ever heard the story of David? How he was a beautiful boy, sweet and brave, with a disposition to help others even when he was at a disadvantage in height, age and skill?”

“Yes, Granny,” He’d answer. “He was a man with a heart after God’s own.”

“Yes he was. You know who else has the same qualities, m’boy?”

Peeta cocked his head to one side. He’d heard his grandmother say this over and over throughout his life, but he never quite saw how could his Granny be right.

“You, m’dear!” She’d always say, sporting a kind smile.

That day though, he believed it.

He wanted to be a boy with a heart after God’s own heart. He wanted to be like David, to sing and dance before his Creator, to be brave, selfless and strong, taking care of those in need, protecting the innocent lambs from the bloodthirsty wolves. He wanted to find favor at the eyes of God, not for his own selfish gain, but because he loved God, and he wanted others to feel God loving them through him.

It was a big revelation for a 12 year old boy from the sleepy town of Panem, North Carolina.

“Granny? Do you really think I can be as great as David? He was king over his people, appointed by God, I’m just the baby son of the baker.”

Grandmother gathered him in her arms, because he would never be too old for her to hold, and spoke from her heart, “My precious boy,” she kissed the crown of his head, “David started as a sheppard himself. There’s no limit as to whom or how God will use a person to bless another. Don’t you fret my love, you’ll see your time come, and some day you’ll learn just how much of an impact you can have on someone else’s life,”

 

* * *

 

**March, 1994**

It had been three painful months since Peeta Mellark had the awful experience of watching his Granny’s coffin be lowered into the hard ground.

His heart was slowly mending, but sometimes he still got very sad, to the point of big, fat tears.

He walked into the back door of the bakery, feeling a little blue, he knew Granny was in heaven with Jesus, but he still missed her hugs and her sweet voice. He missed being able to share with her about his day, or hearing her delighted comments on a sketch he’d made for her, but most all, he missed going with her to the homeless shelters to help in anyway they could.

He was still too young to be around Downtown on his own, his mother wouldn’t allow it, and she wouldn’t accompany him either, so he was stuck depending on a person who didn’t share his charitable callings.

“Hi Peeta.” Said his father poking the dough that was proofing on the counter. “How was school, son?” He asked while sprinkling flour on the prepping table and dumping the dough on it.

Peeta shrugged, “It was fine I guess. Coach Thread announced tryouts for the wrestling team are next week.” He said knowing his father would be pleased about the news, the Mellarks had a long line of wrestling champions in the family, both his brothers were wrestlers, just like their dad used to be, and his dad before him, and so on.

“Hmm…” father made a curious noise at the back of his throat, causing Peeta’s eyes to lift up in his direction. “Are sure you want to try for it?” The question was unexpected but not unkind. “You know if you want to just do art with Mr. Cinna’s class that’s okay too. You don’t have to wrestle because is a legacy. You can choose your own thing.”

This took Peeta aback. He was good at painting and even sculpting, but he never thought of taking art over wrestling as extracurricular. Peeta was built for wrestling, just like every other Mellark. He was strong and knew many of the moves from years of rough-housing with his brothers. He peered at his father for any sign of disappointment or anger, but, he saw nothing of the sort.

“By the way,” father said, “you got mail. A letter. Over there on my desk. Grab a snack, and after you’re done reading it, come back to do the dishes. There’s also a whole tray of sugar cookies that needs to be frosted.” Father winked real quick, signaling it was time to go get his snack before work.

He sat on his father’s chair at his office desk, sandwich on a napkin- because he didn’t want extra plates to wash- and some water in a paper cup, because although father told him he didn’t have to become a wrestler to fulfill anyone’s traditions, he still wanted to try for himself, and he knew they were going to put him on a diet anyway.

He found a pile of envelopes waiting to be sorted, he made stacks for bills, junk and personal mail, and found the one addressed to him:

Mr. Peeta Mellark  
12 Merchant St.  
Panem, NC 01213  
USA

He recognized the church’s stationary, he turned the envelope over, looking for a sender, but he found nothing else. Shrugging again, he started tearing it open. He’d find out who sent it soon enough.

Inside was a folded notebook page, with a sticky note attached to it. He frowned and pulled the post-it off to read:

 _Dear Peeta,_  
_Somebody gave this to me for you. It’s a letter from the child who received your Christmas box, they wanted to thank you, but had no idea how to contact you._  
_Your grandma would’ve been proud._  
_See you Sunday!_  
_Love,_  
_Mags Shackleford (9th grade Sunday School Teacher)_

Peeta’s eyebrows arched in surprise at the note, the Christmas box was the last thing he and his grandmother worked on together before her passing. He stuck the slip of paper on the surface of the desk and unfolded the notebook page.

He was welcomed by beautiful penmanship. The words were written in cursive with delicate loops and neat lines. There were no hesitation marks to show a mistake corrected by an eraser either. He was impressed!

He smoothed the page down, took a bite of his sandwich as far away from the letter, as to not drop any condiments on it, and read. 

 

> _Hi Peeta Mellark! my name is Katniss Everdeen, I’m 11 years of age, I live in Manila with my mother and sister. My papa died five weeks before Christmas, and we were all so sad, but your beautiful present was just what we needed!_
> 
> _Thank you for the food, I think lamb stew with plums will forever be my favorite from now on, the bread was a little hard, but dipped in the stew was perfect! My mother and sister enjoyed it too! By the way, mama is American like you, she has golden hair and blue eyes and so does my sister, you look more like them than I do, but that’s fine, I look like papa, and I like being able to see him in the mirror when I look at myself. :)_
> 
> _Thank you again for the delicious Christmas feast you sent us. It was the best of presents. Please write me back if you can!_
> 
> _Your friend,  
>  Katniss._
> 
> _PS: I hope you like my picture._
> 
>  

He sat the letter down and looked into the envelope but it was empty. He wondered where could her picture have gone to. He reckoned he could ask Mrs Mags on Sunday to look for it. He read the letter again, wondering where exactly was Manila, he had never heard of it. He was also curious about her line about her mom being American like him. Did she meant that people in Manila weren’t white? Maybe a trip to the public library was in order.

He thought curious the most, that she only thanked him for the food. He had filled that box to the brim with everything and anything he could think of that was both funny and entertaining. He wasn’t sure who was gonna get it or where it was going to end up, so he covered all the bases, according to what he’d liked.

He took the last sip of water and closed his eyes to picture every item he had placed in that box.

There were a few toys, a yo-yo and some stickers, pencils, sharpeners, crayons, a sketchbook, glue sticks, socks, shoelaces, a book with nursery prayers, a tin of cookies, another tin with a Christmas bread, dense and hearty, filled with nuts and berries, the kind that’ll keep you going for a while just by itself, and at the last minute, he shoved in, two cans of his Granny’s favorite: lamb stew with plums, just because he missed her terribly and he thought she’d approve.

Lastly, he placed a picture of himself in the box. He had gotten his school portraits that week, and he had one less person to give a picture to that Christmas. He wrote on the back his name, age, grade and the words “Merry Christmas Friend!”

He sat back, staring at the letter in front of him, and decided losing a parent was even worse than losing a Granny, no matter how much you loved her.

He thought of his own father, just outside the door, baking bread. He’d be miserable if he’d lost his father. He thought of losing his mother, and even though she wasn’t as kind as his father, or loving as his Granny, he knew he’d be beyond sad if he were to lose her too.

He lifted a little prayer on behalf of all orphans, especially this Katniss Everdeen girl. She sounded like she could use the prayer too, and then he folded the letter back and placed it neatly in its envelope for safekeeping, before returning to the kitchen, to start on his chores. 

 

* * *

 

A few weeks later, his Sunday school teacher, Mrs Mags, apologized to him for not having found the picture that came with the letter. She told him that she did find out there was a video of the children opening the boxes one of the missionaries in Manila made. She warned him, he may not be able to tell anyway who got his box, but it was something. They were going to play the video during Wednesday night service, when the missionaries were set to speak at church.

Wednesday came at snail pace, and he almost missed church because he was so tired. He had shoveled off snow from the sidewalk in front of the bakery that morning, since it was an unseasonably late snow fall they had no salt for the concrete, then, he had to wash some pans, which made him late for school in turn missing a test, which landed him in a heap of trouble with Mr. Heavensbee, the history teacher.

After groveling with his charm dialed up to the maximum, Mr. Heavensbee acquiesced to let him take the test after school and before wrestling practice, this had a domino effect on the rest of his day. He got late to practice as well. He had to run laps for what felt like an eternity as punishment. By the time he got home, his missed supper. His whole body was sore and his legs felt like jello, but he manned up, and marched on, on foot, to church. He was really very curious about the _Pinay_ girl who wrote to him.

He had learned the term Pinay from a book in the library, it referred to a female person from the Philippines. That’s where Katniss Everdeen was from, an island far away in Asia, some where out in the Pacific Ocean. He learned that being so closed to the equator, the island was prone to hurricanes and earthquakes. That at some point in history, the USA had control over it, but they finally recognized it as its own nation, and to add greatness to them, the Philippines  became one of the first founders of the United Nations.

Philippines sounded like a pretty awesome place, and he figured he’d learn more about it at church, from the missionaries that had been working there the past year.

When time came to see the movie, he was disappointed the segment on Christmas boxes only lasted a whooping 2 minute long montage, out of the whole 18 minute video of the whole year.

The footage was so fast he couldn’t tell if there were any characteristics that would pinpoint at his own box. He watched with the utmost interest the rest of the video, and listen closely to the anecdotes and testimonies of the group of missionaries, consisting of a family -mom, dad and two teenaged daughters- because that was the polite thing to do.

At times, they would pause the images to explain something, or to share a back story for what they we’re watching, it was mostly interesting, but Peeta was tired, and his eyes started to droop.

Suddenly, a young voice crooned Amazing Grace through the speakers, wiping away all of Peeta’s fatigue.

It was the most wonderful thing! A little girl, who couldn’t be older than 10, judging by how skinny and short she was, sang with all the feelings of her soul. 

She had a heart shaped face, with the darkest, shiniest hair he’d ever seen gathered at each side of her head in twin braids, a series of stills took over the  video, but her voice still sang as backdrop. Pictures of a children’s assembly where the singer girl lifted her hand above the crowd, the next picture showed somebody picking her up and placing her on a stool in front of the congregation, the stills pictures faded back to the movie. The girl’s red checkered dress looked a little ill fitted on her tiny frame, but Peeta thought the color suited her olive skin just right. 

He was mesmerized with the girl’s talent, but it was more than her musical prowess, it was her bravery, her passion as she sang... her voice! And when he thought nothing would ever top the way she captivated him with her voice, the camera closed up on her face. His heart stopped for just a second, then beated so hard and fast, he had to place his hand on his chest to make sure it wasn’t about to break free and crash against the canvas the movie was being projected into.

It was just a clip of it though, only long enough to see the unique shade of gray her eyes were... not quite blue, but toeing the line. The song lasted to the end of the first stanza, but he was completely fascinated with the girl and her sweet, clear voice. The little girl exuded confidence, something he had just started to dabble on since joining the wrestling team at school.

When the service was over, the pastor said that everyone was welcome to come speak to the missionaries for a bit. They were scheduled to go back to the Philippines in a month or so, but that was their only night at that particular church, they were visiting all the churches that had had a hand in supporting their ministry abroad.

Peeta stood at the back of a short queue, and waited patiently for his turn, trying to ignore the heaviness of his limbs. In the few seconds in which the girl sang, he had completely forgotten about his exhaustion, the lingering sadness of losing Granny, and the frustration with his mother’s unkind words to him as he was leaving to church that afternoon.

She had mocked him for getting in trouble at school for being late all day, asking him if he knew how to tell time on that fancy hand watch he’d gotten for Christmas, or if he should go back  to his kiddie Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles one that was up in his bedroom, without batteries. The worst part of all, was it had been her, the one who made him late, by demanding he cleared the bakery’s sink before going to school. He had done it without protest knowing full well he was overstaying.

He was so lost in his dark cloud of unhappy thoughts, that he got startled when the young lady in front of him cleared her throat loudly to get his attention.

He looked up, realizing he now was first in line.

“Hi! I’m Peeta Mellark. Nice to meet you ma’am.” He shook the teen’s hand enthusiastically, the girl smiled.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Bonnie, that’s my sister Twill. Mom and Dad,” she pointed at each of her relatives and then smiled at him. 

“Yeah, I remember the pastor said y’all were related, earlier.” He smiled. “So… h-how do you like Manila? I’ve been reading on it.” He didn’t mention he sent one of the boxes, because the Bible said not to brag about that kind of stuff, his grandmother made sure he knew that.

They spoke for a while about Manila and the Philippines. Then he asked other mundane questions about weather and food and the such. He saw more people had come to queued behind him, so he inhaled a long breath, hoping to pick up some bravery from the oxygen filling his lungs, and asked his question, “So, that girl that sang Amazing Grace, was she a regular? Do you remember her name?”

Bonnie smiled widely. “Why, yes! That’s little miss Mockingjay.” She beamed, “She and her baby sister were regulars. Sweetest girls ever.”

”Mocking... what?” He asked furrowing his brow. He was confused. 

“Oh!” Bonnie laughed. “Mockingjay,” she repeated slowly, enunciating each syllable. “It’s a nickname we made up for her. Her real name was Catnip or something like that.”

”Gotcha,” he responded somewhat relieved there was a reason he couldn’t place the name in any recognizable language.

“Yeah, little lady could sing sweeter than a mockingbird, but was as feisty and protective of her sister as a mother Jay.” 

“I see. Well, she sang beautifully. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone sing like that before.”

Bonnie smile at him, and he felt his cheeks burn up with embarrassment, that he couldn’t quite explain.

“Thank you for your time, miss Bonnie. I really enjoyed watching y’all’s video.”

“I’m glad! Hope the Lord will lead you to pray for all the people we serve in the Philippines.”

“For sure.” Peeta smiled, his heart a little fuller and less sad, now that the little girl had a name and some personal traits to go with.

That night, while brushing his teeth before bed, the thought came to him like lightning in a storm. “Maaaaan!” He cried out, spitting toothpaste all over the mirror. “I’m an idiot!” He shook his head at his reflection. Penetrating blue eyes under frowning dark blonde brows, staring at him reproachfully. “I could’ve had written a note for Katniss and another one for Mockingjay, and given them to miss Bonnie to bring back to Manila.” He exhale a disappointed sigh. “I’ll never get another chance.”

He finished washing up, turned off the light and shuffle to the bedroom he shared with his middle brother, “Stupid. I’m the biggest idiot ever!” He said to himself under his breath, and pulled the covers over himself.

”Been saying that for ages, Peet. Now shut up and go to bed, we have school tomorrow.” Called his brother from under his own comforter.

Peeta just glared. 

 

* * *

 

**September 22, 2015**

Peeta pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. He could feel a headache coming. He could also feel his eyes morphing into rectangles that perfectly fit the screen of his laptop.

He sat back, took a sip of his red bull and pat his cheeks with his hands in rapid succession in an effort to liven himself up. He was making last minute enhancements to one the most important papers of the semester and he couldn’t afford to finishing it.

He was awarded a full scholarship to the school of his choosing thanks to being a wrestler champion three years in a row in high school. He was so good that even the University of Georgia offered him a spot in the wrestling club, and he took the chance.

School was far enough from home that he only went back during holidays, and close enough that he could drive himself back and forth in case of emergencies. Becoming a ‘Dawg’, was only too easy, but he didn’t want to be a jock that only cultivated his physical strength, he enjoyed his art and fell in love with literature, so he took his studies VERY seriously. His motto was: “Brain is the greatest of all muscles.” And he lived accordingly.

He was close to graduating, only needing a few credits; he could taste the sweet flavor of success on the tip of his tongue, but it was a lot of work.

He’d been sitting at his desk so long, his rear end was numb, his lower back ached like a mother, and there was a crick on his neck that wouldn’t go away.

He stretched in the chair, and glanced at his watch. After three hours of non-stop work, a break was in order, but he really wanted to finish his paper that night, so he decided to simply save his file and browse the web for a while.

He dug a bag of Cracker Jacks out of his book bag and opened up Facebook. It had been almost two weeks since the last time he was actually able to get on the social page, always too busy with school work, UGA wrestling club and his part time job. It was nice to just scroll up and down the site, looking at people’s posts.

He had subscribed to Taste and was eager to watch the videos waiting on his feed, he had so many notifications that the bubble counting them next to the tab, had no numbers but ellipticals. He also had a few private messages, so he went there first, hoping nothing was urgent so he could get back to his recipes.

A cursory glance revealed nothing was a matter of life and death, so he simply started reading from bottom to top. Towards the end, he came across some messages from an unknown person.

 _Kat-and-Prim_ , no last name.

The message was direct, a little desperate too.

 **Kat-and-Prim** : ‘ _Hi! Are you Peeta Mellark for Panem, N.C.? I’ve sent you three friend requests, but you have not responded to either. Please, accept my request. That’ll mean a world to me. I’ve looked for a way to contact Peeta Mellark from N.C. USA, your profile was the only one to pop up in the search. Really, if you’re not him, I’ll leave you alone.’_

Peeta rolled his eyes. Clearly this person couldn’t take a hint. He was about to delete the message, but changed his mind at the last second. He decided to humor them, since they’ve claimed to have gone through some lengths to get in touch with him, whoever they were.

He typed, ‘ _Hi. I’m Peeta Mellark from North Carolina. Pardon me for asking, I’m not trying to be rude, but, how do you know me?’_ Hewasnot in the habit of accepting friend requests from people he didn’t recognize, ‘ _I’m sorry if I’ve somehow overlooked something_.’

He pressed sent and closed the small conversation window to click on the next message, but before he was half way done, the stranger’s window pinged, signaling a new message.

 **Kat-and-Prim:** ‘ _Is it really you??? Oh my goodness, I cannot say with words how happy I am right now!’_

“Okay…” he muttered, looking at the screen through narrowed eyes. “This is weird.”

He typed _’Are you a stalker?_ ’, Deleted it, too direct and could be construed as an insult if this person was legitimately trying to get in touch him for whatever reason. He tried again. ‘ _Are you some robot…’_ delete. ‘ _I…_ ’ delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. He sighed. ‘ _So, what’s your name? Maybe—‘_

 **Kat-and-Prim:** ‘ _Hi Peeta! It’s Katniss Everdeen!’_

The message caught him mid typing. He stared at the name in the screen with bulging eyes. He recognized it right away, he remembered everything he knew about the name instantly.

He pressed the delete button again, and started typing another question altogether, but again, her message popped with a ping before he was done.

 **Kat-and-Prim:** ‘ _I was the recipient of your generous Christmas box some 10 years ago. I can’t tell you just how much your box meant for me, for us. Thank you!’_

Peeta combed back his too long wavy hair with both hands, and held onto the tips with his fists for a moment. He was stunned.

“Wow,” he whispered in awe.

 **Peeta:** ‘ _Katniss. Of course I remember you! You wrote me a letter when we’re kids.’_

She replied almost immediately.

 **Katniss** : ‘ _Yes, that’s me! I didn’t know if my letter ever reached you. I’m glad it did!’_

 **Peeta** : ‘ _Yeah, I tried writing back, but I had no idea how to get you my letter. Sorry. And also sorry about the multiple rejections on the friendship request. I didn’t know it was you.’_

The tip of his ears were warm and red with embarrassment. He did try writing once, and he was sure if he had made a bigger effort he could’ve track down the missionaries to send the letter with, but he didn’t. He was too wrapped up in his own teenage angst right then, and later he simply forgot about it until Christmas Box time came around and he vaguely wondered about the previous year.

He really couldn’t help rejecting her requests on Facebook though, that was just common sense. You don’t just allow access to your profile to perfect strangers. Surely she could understand that.

He sat back for a moment to contemplate this weird event.

There he was, watching the bubble of dots of her incoming response, a conversation with a person whose only connection to was a gift box that was randomly given to her some ten years in the past, but for whom the gesture of a 12 year old boy that missed his late grandma, had left a deeply meaningful impression judging by the few comments she had shared in the short conversation they were having.

Without giving it anymore thought, he switched to his notifications and looked for the friend request he had ignored before, thus mending the situation for good.

He was still involved with church, he had always pray he could be a blessing to others, and he figured Katniss may be God’s answer to a question he had repeatedly asked Jesus through the years, “ _Am I doing enough good in this world?”_ He was curious to see how this girl perceived his meager offerings after all this time. Perspectives changed as one grows older after all.

He returned to the messenger thread to read some very heartfelt words of gratitude. After a quick response, saying it wasn’t much, but he was glad she found it useful, her reply came swiftly. 

 **Katniss** : ‘ _Useful? You have no idea how much that box meant to me. It was a lifesaver.’_

Peeta’s lip curled up in an amusement at her exaggeration, until her next message came through and his heart thudded deep in his chest.

 **Katniss** : ‘ _Those cans of food had been the first thing we’ve eaten in 6 days. We had been surviving on tea leave soup, since we’ve eaten the last of a stale pack of crackers someone had given us way before that._

_‘Father died at work during an earthquake. His company only gave our mother one month of his salary in compensation, since it was a natural disaster that cause his death. Mother went into a deep depression and my sister and I were literally starving to death within weeks._

_‘The food in that box helped us. Gave us so much needed hope, and provided me with an idea as how to help my family. Your generosity helped us survive an awful stage of our life. Thanks.’_

He sat there, staring at his screen incomprehensibly.

Another message came through.

 **Katniss** : ‘ _I see you just added me to your contacts! Thank you!:). Now I can leave messages on your wall! Hope that’s okay, friend!’_

 **Peeta** : ‘ _Yeah_.’ He typed and sent on autopilot. Normally he was very eloquent and witty, but he was still reeling from her heart wrenching confession. ‘ _I’d like that.’_

 

* * *

 

**November, 2015**

He hadn’t done it in years, not because he was less generous or because he didn’t find joy in giving anymore, but because he was a college student with very low income and different avenues to serve the needy, but as soon as he was able, he found a handful of Christmas Boxes, and worked on a plan to fill them up.

Being an adult now, he was a little more conscientious about the items he was giving. He made two lists, one was of things that were necessities- toothbrush and toothpaste, for example- and the other listed things that were both fun and educational -e.i: a small game of Bop It, since it encourage memorization and reflexes.

He included non perishable foods as well, now that he knew how it affected Katniss’ life. He wanted to help as many children as he could, even if it was by just providing a full belly for a night and prayers for a better tomorrow. His heart ached for children in dire needs around the globe, because no child should go to bed hungry.

He was affected by her story too. Touched and blessed, reassured in his faith. He really couldn’t explain the plethora of emotions playing in his head and heart when he talked to her, but after the initial conversation, he seek her out periodically, to the extent, that their messaging was now a daily occurrence.

And although Peeta was already a cheerful person, every time he chatted with Katniss, palpable contentment bursted through him. She didn’t have that many pictures up on her profile, the main one was of two hands -one tanned and the other a little paler- forming a heart, and then a picture of two girls, their backs to the camera, holding hands in mid jump. Again, one girl had a very long braid of dark, shiny hair that kind of flipped to the side during the jump, while the second girl had a similar long braid, but her hair was a medium blonde.

He learned pretty quick that she shared a Facebook account with her sister, Primrose, who was 4 years younger than her, and they joined social media at Primrose’s insistence, some 6 years previously, and back then, Katniss considered Prim to be too young to have her own account, which also sort of explained the lack of graphic representation for either of them. Katniss wasn’t very keen on having her preteen sister’s face plastered all over the web. 

Peeta thought it was a bit over the top, but then again, he was never an older sibling watching out for the younger kid’s safety and well being.

Peeta, was undoubtedly curious, but he respected her judgement. Not knowing what she looked like didn’t affect the growing attachment he had for the girl.

He felt inspired by her, by her story, her bravery and all her hard work to bring their family afloat being so young. She’d shared with him about the difficulties they encountered when her father died and her mother, being depressed and unemployed inmigrant at the time, was so detrimental to their survival, but they pulled through at the end. She shared of their heartbreak, and he shared of his grief after Granny passed. They talked about how things had improved for them both as they grew older, and how things were shaping up even then.

It was so easy to fall into longer and longer conversations, he would’ve started doing video chats were not for her old computer not having a camera or microphone, still, he looked forward to their chats online.

She reminded him of Christmases with Granny, were they helped anyone with food, clothing or even just a kind smile, he started to go out of his way to help complete strangers, he volunteered twice a week at a homeless shelter, and he made it his mission to put together as many Christmas boxes as he could.

Even his roommates noticed and felt the contagious effect of merriment and the urge to give to those less fortunate. Each adopted a box as well, and soon, their small house became Christmas Box central, and although it wasn’t December yet, they put up decorations they scavenged from thrift stores and listened to carols while working on their boxes. Peeta even made his grandmother’s Christmas hot chocolate to get everyone in the spirit.

A side effect of having all these guys invilved on his Christmas Boxe project, was the ribbing that ensued. The roommates could accurately tell when Peeta had been chatting with his mystery  girl, because his mood went from affable to extra peppy. 

He smiled and took it in stride, there was no way he could explain to his friends, exactly the special bond he’d developed with this girl he’d never met in person, but there was no denying, he smiled bigger when he talked to her.

 

* * *

 

**February, 2016.**

**Katniss:** ‘ _I heard there’s a group coming to Manila, from the same place that sponsored Bonnie and Twill’s family. I think they’re based closed to your home?’_

Peeta read the message she’d left him earlier that day, probably for the 20th time.

 **Katniss** : ‘ _You should come! :)’_

He felt as if there were this ribbons, snaking their way out of his chest, and slowly inching in the direction of the Philippines. He had gone on mission trips before, to Honduras and Haiti, he’d seen his share of need, and he knew Jesus left him the command to go into the world and bring His gospel forth, but was this an instance in which he was answering the Lord’s call, or was it Katniss’ call he felt tugging at his heart?

He prayed for guidance, and then, he felt it his bones. He had to go, everything about his experience with Katniss had been too providential to ignore now. 

He was very nervous. Excited, but nervous.

He typed quickly, before he lost his nerve.

 **Peeta** : ‘ _Is it easy to find lamb meat in your town? I’m planning on making a big ole pot of stew with plums for you, your family and anyone who’ll like to partake!’_

He hit send, and closed up the Facebook Messenger app on his phone, to call his brother.

The phone got answered on the second ring, as always, “Hi Rye!” He greeted cheerfully, “Hey, is there any chance you can find me info on this mission trip to the Philippines the regional church association is putting together?”

 

* * *

 

**July, 2016.**

He’d been shaking with pent up energy since he boarded his Atlanta to Manila plane some 28 hours earlier. He had a stopover in Detroit, and then another one in Incheon, South Korea, but he felt like he was going to explode in excitement as soon as his plane landed at his final destination. The unending hours of breathing in recycled air was worth it!

The people traveling with him were just happy to be on the ground and able to walk around. Everyone looked worse for tear, but there was a giddiness in everyone as they cleared Filipino customs and were officially greeted into the country.

Once the group reached baggage claim, a few people from the local church welcomed them to their home in between warm hugs and vigorous handshakes, it was moving really, to see all this people meeting for the first time act like they truly loved each other. But his blue eyes roamed the place, looking for someone he hoped was there to greet him for the first time in person.

His eyes scanned over the heads of his companions and then he saw her, standing awkwardly to the side, eyes dancing from one person to the next, smiling at the happiness of the others as one that watches a particularly pretty display at a mall window, but dares no enter the store.

She was pretty, exotically pretty, straight black hair gathered into a long thick braid that reach down to her bee-like waist. Her skin was a beautiful, sunkissed olive tone, and her smile was perhaps the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen.

Someone was giving some kind of instructions, which they could be potentially important for the peaceful going of the mission trip, but his ears were filled with white noise, since the rest of his senses had been hijacked at her sight, leaving him to operate through primitive responses: breathe, swallow, walk past the people still hugging one another, picking up bags, directing everyone out of the airport... he only stopped walking once he was standing right in front of her.

Despite having only seeing her once in his life for the duration of the first stanza of Amazing Grace, he knew he was looking at the Mockingjay, as Bonnie had called her. At least, he recognized the adult version of her, as if he’d grown up watching her for afar. 

She’d been staring at him in disbelief the whole time, her cheeks turning an appealing pink as her eyes blinked back unshed tears.

Those eyes though! His heart stuttered and he gasped unintentionally. Her eyes were the single most gorgeous thing he’d seeing in his entire life. They weren’t blue, but they were definitely not brown either. She had the most amazing gray eyes in the world, and she met his gaze dead on.

“Hi,” He rasped quietly, kicking himself for sounding like a pubescent shy boy, changing his voice.

Her smile widened, “Hi, Peeta, welcome to Manila. I’ve been waiting for this moment since I was 12. It feels... like Christmas arrived early this year,”

“I know what you mean,” he said softly.

He was glad that breathing was reflex hardwired in the brain, otherwise he would pass out from an oxygen deprivation, but who cared, he was pretty sure he just Katniss Everdeen, the Mockingjay... and if God had it in his heart, his future bride, because Peeta Mellark was and absolute goner.

 

* * *

 

**December 24th, 2017.**

It was a glorious Sunday morning! Peeta was toasty in bed, under thick covers, with his arms wrapped around the warm, slender body of his bride, or rather, his brand new wife!

He still couldn’t believe this was his life! 

The previous day had been magical, they had a Christmas wedding, with carols playing in the reception, people enjoying every single dessert Mellark’s Bakery prepared for the occasion and mistletoe bundles hanging on strategic places.

Then they lighted a life size nativity scene Peeta had carved, because “Jesus is the reason for season”, and went away to their honeymoon... and how sweet that wedding night had been!

Between sweet kisses that turned passionate and shy hands that started to roam boldly over skin, they had given themselves to one another in marital bliss. 

Then after, while they laid side by side spent, he asked her, because he couldn’t believe his luck, “You love me, real or not real?” 

“Real,” she answered, smiling sweetly at her husband, with gray eyes full of adoration and devotion.

He hoped his eyes told her how much he loved her too, how grateful he was, how honored to call her his wife. 

They kissed sweetly once more, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

But it was morning now, and the day was young, they had to pack up and get on plane back to America soon, and because he couldn’t stop his hands to seek out her soft, perfect skin, he caressed down har back and woke her with open mouth kisses along her jaw.

”Good morning, sweetheart. How about we cross some oceans together?” He asked into her ear.

”Okay,” she responded stretching lazily. “Right after we do that thing again!” She threw her arms around his neck and amidst giggles and kisses he pulled the covers over the both of them to please the wife.

 

* * *

  

**5, 10, 15 years later...**

”How does this look?” Asked the girl with the twin dark braids and eyes bluer than the sky, showing her Daddy a hand drawn Christmas card.

”That’s beautiful sweetie! Very good. Do you want to add it to your box?” Peeta asked his daughter with a fond smile.

”Yeah, I think it’ll be a nice way to say hi to the kid receiving my box.” She answered looking over her work, and then slipping it into the open shoe box. “I think my brother wants to make one too, but he’d already wrote two letters.” 

“Two letters? For the same box?” Asked Katniss setting down on the table a plate stacked with sandwiches and some carrot sticks. “Lunch is ready everybody!” She called out loudly.

Their daughter responded as if her mother handy just announced lunch, “He says he forgot to write something on the first one, but the card is just to wish them a merry Christmas.” Said the girl matter-of-factly. “Daddy, can I go with you when you drop off the boxes at church?” 

“Of course you can!”

”And me? I want to go too!” Yelled the younger boy, running in from the living room, where the TV was still playing Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, rather loudly.

The boy looked just like his father, stocky frame, ashy blond wavy hair, a smirk on his sweet face... except for the gray eyes he inherited from his mother, he was the spitting image of Peeta at that age. 

“Yup, you’re coming too, little rascal! How else am I unloading 100 Christmas Boxes of my truck?” He said tickling his son on the ribs, while the boy laughed uncontrollably.

It was repetitive, tedious work at times, but they did it every year, the Mellark family tradition of packing Christmas Boxes, now in the hundreds, and it was a whole family affair. The Mellarks and Everdeens came together the Saturday after Thanksgiving and put together the many boxes, they sealed and prayed over them to be a blessing elsewhere, because who knows who Jesus would be saving that year with a bit of Christmas cheer.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> First things first: Merry Christmas! Thank you for reading my story, I hope you had an enjoyable time with it! 
> 
> This story is loosely based of the link I copied at the top comments, and I took some creative licenses while writing. 
> 
> The Christmas box, comes from Operation Christmas Child, which is a project of Samaritan’s Purse, an international relief organization. At the core of the project, one can provide to children around the world with shoeboxes filled with small toys, hygiene items, and school supplies as a means of reaching out to them in their own communities. The idea is to show the love of Jesus to the recipients of the boxes, without pushing a religious agenda, but providing a social act of kindness. These boxes are shipped outside the United States to children affected by war, poverty, natural disaster, famine, and disease; and to children living on Native American reservations in the U.S. anyone can donate, and you could even track the shipping labels of your boxe if you’d like to know where is it going. I personally doubt we can get away with including canned food in the contents of the boxes, since nowadays you’re not allowed to put toothpaste in them because of customs regulations. 
> 
> I know a real life family who have Christmas Boxes parties the Saturday after Thanksgiving, so I borrowed to that for the Mellarks;). This year, my real life friends, packed 400 boxes and drove them to their church on a small trailer. I wished a had copied the picture they showed me of the stack of boxes. They collect stuff all year long.
> 
> Facebook, is a popular social media site, if you haven’t heard of it, I’m sincerely curious as to how you’ve managed to avoid it. 
> 
> I’ve never been to the Philippines, but I’ve heard great things. All the facts Peeta learned at the library, I lifted from Wikipedia. I apologize to any Filipino people reading this story, for purposely make it so vague. 
> 
> Lastly, Katniss and Peeta moved to America after getting married, which was a lot easier for K, being half American already. All she had to do was apply for an American passport with proof of her mom’s nationality. Sorry folks, No 90 day fiance in this story. 
> 
> As always, come to say hi on tumblr @Alliswell21. Happy New Year!


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